My Own Snape
by Swallow B
Summary: After reading a fan fic, Swallow B. decides to get herself a Snape.


My Own Snape

This was story was inspired by 'Care and Feeding of your Severus Snape', by shyfoxling.

Severus Snape, despite everybody's efforts, is still JK Rowling's propriety.

Warning: Not to be taken seriously. Swallow B. promises she'll go back to writing angsty stuff after this piece of comic relief .

ooo

JK Rowling's advice to writers is: read, write, read more, write more.

She doesn't mean fan fiction, of course.

She means, like, good literature.

I do read good literature, sometimes. But I read a lot of fan fiction.

Anyway, I was writing a fan fic. I got Draco and Blaise trying to talk to Snape's portrait and the conversation was getting nowhere. So I looked for a good fan fic to unblock me.

I found one called ' Care and Feeding of your Severus Snape', by shyfoxling.

It changed my life.

If I had a Snape, I thought, dreamily turning the computer off, I would ask him to help me. He would know exactly what to say to Blaise and Draco. And to Goyle and Nott. And to everybody.

If I had a Snape, he might help me rewrite the story I lost.

He would say,

"Why didn't you dunderhead type it directly on the computer?"

And I'd say,

"Look who's talking. Don't you use a quill and parchment?"

And we'd have a nice Snapey argument, which would make me feel much better.

Crikey, I'd like a Snape.

I couldn't stop thinking about it all day. At night, I couldn't sleep.

I'd take ever such good care of him. I'd let him brew potions in the kitchen. I'd grow any plant he needs on the windowsill. I'd hunt beetles, frogs and rats, and... well, not unicorns, but whatever I can find in this part of the world. I'd get him some nice swishing black cloaks. I'll never tell him to wash his hair.

Of course, there is a problem. There is always a problem when you want something badly enough. The problem is, according to the story, Snapes are only available in the US.

Why? Don't ask.

What is Snape doing in America? Teaching the Yankees to speak Malfoy-approved English?

But why am I worried? We are the people who kidnapped Eichmann out of Argentina. We are the people who helped a planeful of hostages escape Uganda. If someone can get a Snape out of the US, we can.

How? Red tape. Pulling the right strings. Here it's called 'protektzia'.

"Be careful if you go to the States," Best Friend told me. "They do body searches in the airports."

"But it's okay: you 'll only be searched by a woman of the same sex," she added.

"Well, I'm glad I won't be searched by a woman of another sex." I said.

She told me I read Simone de Beauvoir too much.

So don't ask how, but I got me a Snape.

My uncle from America, uncle Samuel Finkelstein, brought him over.

"I'm getting a Snape," I told my family excitedly.

Oldest Daughter told me that was the stupidest thing I'd ever done, including all the other stupid things I'd done in my life.

I said, "Thank you, darling."

No, I didn't. What I really said isn't printable. It would make lose my good name. If I haven't lost it already, with this rather silly story.

Youngest Daughter said, "I don't like Snape. Can't you get a Sirius instead?"

Middle Daughter said if we got both, we'd need two cages, like when we had the two hamsters who kept trying to kill each other.

Son said, "What's a Snape?"

After I explained carefully, he said, "Oh, that's all right. It doesn't exist."

Husband asked what Snape's religion is.

I said I don't know. We don't see Snape praying in the books.

Nobody wanted to come with me to the airport to pick up Uncle Sam and the Snape, so I went by myself. I was quite pleased, really. I didn't want them annoying my Snape on our first meeting.

Uncle Sam is very big, a bit like Hagrid. He never travels with less than six suitcases. Five of them are usually full of chewing-gum and Skippy peanut butter. This time he had seven. One was for the Snape.

"Which one is it?" I asked breathlessly, as Uncle Sam made his triumphant appearance.

"The black one," he said. "And first give me a hug. I deserve it. I had to bribe a lot of high-ranking officials to get it here, but you'll be the first in this country to have your own Snape."

Uncle Sam gave me a Hagrid bone-crushing hug, and only after that began to search his Hagrid-like pockets for the key to the black suitcase.

A scowling Snape unfolded his thin black-clad figure and glared at me.

A Snape's glare! Uncle Sam's hug wasn't enough. I had to hug myself again. I had a Snape!

"Welcome to Israel", I told my Snape.

"I don't know about welcome," he hissed. "What sort of country is this that you have to sit twelve hours in a suitcase to get to?"

"I'm sorry," I said. "Would you like a drink or something?"

"A drink?" he repeated derisively, and walked off towards the bathroom.

Oh dear.

"I'm off to rent a car," said Uncle Sam, pushing his loaded cart into the crowd like a tank.

"We should wait for Snape."

"He'll find us. He's a wizard, remember?"

"Still, I'll wait for him."

I had a feeling Snape wasn't used to airports.

He was still glaring when he returned.

"I am at your disposal", he said, not looking too pleased about it.

I thought of the compartment on the plane that is marked "towel disposal", so I said, "I don't want to dispose of you."

He gave me a look like the ones Oldest Daughter always gives me.

'Let's go and find Uncle Sam."

He nodded jerkily and followed, swishing his black robes around him. I watched him, fascinated.

Soon we were on the highway.

"I hope you'll like it here," I told Snape a little anxiously.

He sneered.

"So what are you going to do with him?" asked Uncle Sam.

"I need him as a ghost writer. I write fan fiction."

Uncle Sam's laugh made the car doors rattle.

I felt very silly. Especially when he had finished laughing and Snape said,

"I refuse to adopt Harry Potter, be de-aged, or be paired with Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black or Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Not many people left, then" said Uncle Sam. "Would you like to go to a matchmaker?"

"No matchmaker!" hissed Snape.

"No," I said. "Don't worry. I don't write romance. I write you as a loner."

"Hum," he said, looking slightly less unhappy.

"I am writing a story in which you are dead. It's about your portrait. And there is another one I started, about the witch of Endor, only I can't find where I put it."

"No pairing, I trust."

"No pairing. Well, my intention was to have you speak to Lily."

Snape said nothing. He looked out of the window, at the hills.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I won't write it if you don't want me to."

"Don't you understand, stupid woman, that there is a reason why you can't find it? I am not talking to... I am not."

"Sorry," I whispered. "Maybe you will help me write stories that you like."

"Why? What is the point?"

"There are lots of people who like to read about you."

"They like me paired with Granger, living in a manor like the Malfoys and reciting poetry all day," he muttered.

"Well..."

"Right. Do you know why there are no poetry books at Hogwarts?"

"Because the best poets are all Slytherins?"

"Hum." He gave me an appraising look. "Not all of them. But undoubtedly most."

Uncle Sam dropped us home with one of the suitcases of chewing-gum and Skippy peanut butter, and set off for his hotel. Our flat isn't big enough for him and all his suitcases.

"Where is your luggage?" I asked Snape.

He pulled a small attache-case out of the suitcase in which he had travelled.

"All in there? Hermione had all her things in a small handbag, too."

"This is not Granger's invention," he huffed." It's very old magic. As a Muggle, you may have heard of Mary Poppins?"

"I grew up with PL Travers' books! Did she go to Hogwarts too?"

"Madam Travers? Of course not. She was a Squib."

"Don't tell me she was related to the Death Eater."

"I won't. Mary Poppins went to Hogwarts. She studied with Dumbledore."

"I knew it!" I exclaimed. "Tell me, is there a school of magic here too?"

"I am not allowed to tell you that."

But we don't get much time to talk undisturbed in this house. Soon, Husband wanted to discuss the American embargo on Snapes and Oldest Daughter served Snape a local 'shakshuka', of which Snape correctly identified all the ingredients and their quantities.

Then he looked at me quizzically.

"When do we start work?"

Happily, I dragged him to my writing table and pulled out my story.

"I need to rewrite the conversation. You play yourself and I'll play Draco and Blaise."

It's wonderful to have a Snape!

I wonder if they do Minervas, too.

ooo

"Crikey, I'd like a Snape" is paraphrased from 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone', of course.

The remark about body searches conducted by '"women of the same sex" was really made by Best Friend.

All the rest is fiction.


End file.
